Eyelashes
by Craft Rose
Summary: Rose is forced to tutor the bane of her existence, Scorpius Malfoy, unbeknownst to the fact that he has other things in mind.


**A/N: Chapter One!**

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><p><strong><span>Rose:<span>**

It happened fast, like lightening — though she could have sworn she had seen heat dance across those stormy grey eyes.

Rose shifted her attention downward, stuffing the alarm and the lingering suspense further down her esophagus. No good could come from consorting with the enemy, and Scorpius Malfoy had far and away proven himself to be the most loathsome of the male species. For one, he was an arrogant twit without two brain cells to rub together. For another, he treated everyone, including his minions and his revolving door of women, like absolute and utter shite. She more than loathed him. Truth be told, she was rather obsessive with her disdain for this particular Slytherin, seeing as he took it upon himself to dismantle her character at every juncture.

Though, even those traits couldn't distract her from the more obvious fact that he was, in the most frustrating sense imaginable — _attractive_.

Hair the colour of champagne, with a fringe that swept across his eyes like storm clouds across the night sky, and just the right amount of muscle definition beneath those finely-tailored robes. Hints, here and there — when he reached up on the highest shelf in the library, or when he returned to the Great Hall after Quidditch practice, with tendrils of hair clinging to his forehead and sweat slicked over his face, neck and forearms.

"Bother —" Rose mouthed, having snapped her quill.

She breathed, lifting the lid to her rucksack and rummaging through its contents before locating another quill and readily preparing it for use. It was mid-sixth year, which meant loads of revision and an abundance of school functions to organize and oversee. For some inane reason, she had taken it upon herself to join the newly formed Student Council, which therefore plagued her with more responsibility than she knew how to handle.

Her mother had blessed her with brains and decent looks, but it was her father's knack for clumsiness and overall baboonery which she had seemed to inherit within the last five months. First, tardiness for over four lessons within the first week of school alone, and then, failure to revise the most important chapter in _Advanced Potion Making _for the mid-term she and the rest of the NEWT level class had been forced to endure.

An 'A' for Acceptable wasn't nearly as bad as her other classmates' scores. To her parents and the strict, but well-meaning Minerva McGonagall, however, Rose may as well have failed the exam entirely.

Needless to mention, she studied hard for the next exam and managed to persuade Professor Slughorn into giving her an extra credit assignment to make up for the abysmal effort. Her father was right; a little bit of crystallized pineapple did indeed go a long way.

"Oi," Albus cut in, nudging her whilst the pair of them revised in the library; silent as mice.

Rose looked to him, wildly annoyed. "What do you want?" she snapped, with more fire than she had intended.

Her cousin arched an eyebrow, before pointing at the time on his wristwatch. It was an hour before dinnertime, which meant she was late for the meeting in Slughorn's office and because of that, risked losing her chance at extra credit.

"Shite, shite, shite…" she blurted, four legs screeching against hardwood, as she rose from her chair and hurriedly gathered her things, whilst avoiding the nasty looks she had earned from the nearby group of fourth year Ravenclaws, moving past them and mumbling something that sounded vaguely like _keeners _under her breath.

Again, something she had inherited from her noble father.

Now frazzled beyond measure, Rose exited the library in a storm of parchment and red hair, and raced down the Seventh Floor corridor with books and quills and a pot of black ink bundled to her chest. It went without saying that she was having a bad week — but to then teeter over the edge of the Grand Staircase was something else entirely.

"Oh my — Oh my —!"

Just in the nick of time, before she released her things in an attempt to withdraw her wand and thereby cushion the seven-story drop, an unfamiliar pair of hands clasped over her shoulders and drew her backward, about three or four feet, saving not only her belongings, but her life.

Rose slammed to the floor with an unceremonious _thud_, breathing in and out, in quick succession, aware that the left sleeve of her Gryffindor jumper had been torn at the seam and that her saviour had fallen with her. She ran both hands through her hair, taking a moment to collect her thoughts, before using the next moment to collect her things, which were strewn across the floor and spattered with ink.

Her uniform was no exception. She flicked one look down and noticed splotches of black on her skirt, stockings and jumper, as well as her hands and legs. "You've got to be kidding me," Rose moaned, sliding one hand into her waistband, where she kept her wand, to realize that it, too, had fallen victim to the accident.

She proceeded to wheel a look around, in search for her wand of vine and ten inches with dragon heartstring core, which then forced her to notice the polished, designer shoes and tailored trousers of one Scorpius Malfoy. Rose glanced up, at him, and around again, noting the emptiness of the corridor and quickly realizing he'd been the one to hold her back.

"Looking for _this_?" he inflected, raising something that looked an awful lot like her wand — snapped in two — between his index finger and thumb.

Rose pressed both hands to her lips, holding them in prayer position. "Are you absolutely shitting me?"

"'fraid not, Princess —" Scorpius retorted swiftly, tossing the broken wand to her feet and watching with engrossed satisfaction as she hurried to collect the pieces. "Oh, and you should expect an invoice for damages."

The Head Girl opened her mouth to question him, but found the words lodged in her throat, as he displayed several tears in his uniform, as well as ink on his face and hair; though she had it on good authority that he didn't know about the last bit.

"What are you on about?" he snapped, noting the tickle of laughter between her lips.

"Oh, _nothing_…" Rose giggled, making an honest effort not to react.

The idea of Scorpius Malfoy proceeding through the corridors with blotches of ink matted to his otherwise meticulously coiffed hair and ivory complexion was too pleasurable to relinquish. His revolving door of women would simply _adore_ the sight of that. Godric knew the prat could have used a night off from his nightly (hourly?) sojourn through every girl's knickers from fifth year on.

"You're welcome, by the way," he added, folding his arms.

Rose stood, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt and using her hair to cover the tear on her jumper, which revealed her fluorescent pink bra strap. It wasn't an ideal colour, but her mother insisted on purchasing undergarments that were, as she said, _age appropriate_, as opposed to the lacy odds and ends that Aunt Fleur purchased for her daughters Victoire and Dominique.

"Thank you," she said to him, noting the twitch of surprise along his bottom lip, to which she was not shocked, as Slytherins weren't accustomed to things such as manners and politeness and general courtesy. Though, even she wasn't sure that what he had done fell under those things, more than it did courage and quick thinking and an overall uncharacteristic intent to keep her in one piece.

Scorpius noticed the flustered, disoriented look on her face and acted on it. "Mark my words, Princess. You _will _return the favour."

Her attention snapped back to him, alarmed and then insulted. "I beg your pardon?"

He responded to her distaste with nothing more than a wink, if only to keep her guessing.

**Scorpius:**

It was around ten minutes after dinnertime and without knowing the reason, Scorpius had been called into his Head of House's office. To his knowledge, Slughorn sustained a strange distaste for the Malfoy clan, undoubtedly for the earlier generations' affiliation with Lord Voldemort, which nullified Scorpius' otherwise obvious eligibility for the Slug Club. Though, he wasn't sure this particular meeting had anything to do with Slughorn's oddly inappropriate parties and dinners. Something told Scorpius this particular meeting had to do with the 'P' for Poor he had received on the Potions mid-term. It had been almost one week since the results had been handed out, and through what he figured was dumb luck, his parents hadn't been informed of his pathetic score.

In truth, he didn't care for Potions. It wasn't that he didn't understand the subject — because he did, as he had made the NEWT level class. It was more that he found the subject a bore and couldn't stand the sound of Slughorn's _heavily inflected _tone of voice. The man was an imbecile and a half, with a bald patch the size of Jupiter and lingering eyes for his older female students.

Bearing that in mind, it didn't surprise Scorpius one bit, when he entered the Potions classroom to find Horace Slughorn with a red-faced Rose Weasley across from him.

"Let's get on with this," the young man announced, draping himself over the nearest desk.

Slughorn clapped his hands together. "Good, good." He then turned to Rose and gestured for her to walk ahead, no doubt giving him ample view of her taut little arse. "Right along now."

She moved at a fast pace and turned on her heel, coincidentally facing away from Scorpius. An obvious smirk tugged at his lips, as he figured this was the result of their earlier run-in near the seventh floor entrance to the moving staircase. Through all of dinner and the brief Student Council meeting in the Great Hall, she had avoided his wandering looks. It was no matter to him, as he preferred her this way; flustered and embarrassed, despite her best efforts.

With one look, he noticed she'd changed from her torn uniform, a little sad over the fact that he no longer had view of her brassiere. It was exactly how he'd imagined — bright, offensive pink with tiny butterflies on the straps and generous lift. Nothing like some of the Slytherin girls' tight, leathery numbers. Though, still quite arousing in the fact that it curved along Rose Weasley's untouched, unlicked breasts on a daily basis. Between classes and mealtimes, as she raced up and down the staircase, bouncing up and down, and in the library, when she was so engrossed in an essay or a textbook, that she unknowingly skimmed her fingers down the buttons of her blouse.

Erm.

Scorpius adjusted his position, feeling tight around the trousers. "So what's this about then?"

"Ah, too right!" Slughorn declared, as though he'd been absorbed in the same fantasies. "Miss Weasley here has requested an extra credit assignment, which I have been pondering as of late."

"_Extra _credit?" the young Slytherin repeated, tossing his classmate an illustrated look of complete and utter delight.

Rose dodged his look and resolved to scan something on the opposite wall.

"Yes, extra credit," their professor confirmed, oblivious. "I've _toyed _with the idea of assigning her as my teacher's aid, but the Headmistress wasn't particularly fond of that," he explained, earning a snort from Scorpius. " — which brings me to the conclusion that Rose should still put her talents to use, through something Muggles like to call 'peer tutoring'. Beneficial for both parties."

"Peer tutoring?" Scorpius repeated, familiar with the concept. "Sounds well and good for Miss Know-It-All, but what does that have to do with me?"

Slughorn looked between them then, implicitly answering the question with his eyes. "You, Mr. Malfoy, require some much needed assistance in the art that is potion making, and Miss Weasley here happens to be the perfect candidate. As I mentioned, beneficial for —"

"Nope." Scorpius quickly stood on both feet, brushing the imaginary wrinkles from his uniform. "Not a fat chance in hell."

"I concur," offered Rose, still not looking at him.

Suddenly her detachment during dinner and the Student Council meeting made sense. Though, he would still liked to have imagined his banter had that affect on her, not his abysmal test scores.

Slughorn opened his mouth, taken aback. "Really, now…"

Rose turned to the man. "It was my mistake, professor. I had imagined something closer to an essay or perhaps an oral presentation in front of the class — not this. And though I am flattered you find me an acceptable candidate, I am not sure my current schedule will allow for something as time consuming as bringing Scorpius Malfoy's grades up to par."

"You little —"

" — Now, children," Slughorn interjected, sensing the tension. "As your professor, it is my duty to carry you through this term to the best of my ability. Miss Weasley, you require at least an 'E' on every exam from fifth year until graduation in order to qualify for Healer School, which your recent 'A' has managed to squander…" he explained, turning to Scorpius. "And you, Mr. Malfoy, risk failing the class entirely and subsequently the term, as your Transfiguration and Arithmancy test scores are equally unsatisfactory."

"So much for teacher-student confidentiality," Scorpius grumbled.

Slughorn continued, looking to both of them now. "So, unless either of you have a better idea, I suggest you organize a time and place, and meet at least three or four times per week, in order to accomplish both your goals in a productive, timely fashion."

"Perhaps one of the Slytherin students can take on Scorpius, and I can tutor another?" Rose suggested.

It was around then, that Scorpius shifted his attention downward, knowing the response to that idea before it so much as crossed Slughorn's mind.

"Mr. Malfoy is the only student in school to require such dire assistance," the Potions Master enunciated, tossing a knowing look to his blonde-haired student. "I hoped, going into this, that someone as kind and driven as you, Miss Weasley, would be more than excited to take on this challenge."

"Literally, right here." Scorpius furthered, to no avail.

Rose exhaled, caught between her aspirations to become a Healer and her obvious distaste for the young man who stood in her way. He had to admit, it must have sucked for her, working her arse off from first year until now, only to bomb on one test and have all that work thrown in her face, _knowing _the only solution to her real-life problem was to buckle down and tutor her least favourite person the face of the planet, one-on-one, for the rest of term.

It sucked for him, too, of course — though for different reasons. Namely, that most girls in school either couldn't stand or were insanely envious of Rose Weasley, and wouldn't respond well to their Scorpius spending alone time with her. It would certainly put a damper on his sex life, but he figured he could use the time to chip away at Rose's rock solid conviction and slowly, slither under her skin until she had no choice but to straddle him on the floor of the library with her hair falling to her elbows in fiery spirals and her cute, chaste little pussy ready for the taking.

"I'm in," Scorpius suddenly announced, earning their full attention.

Rose gaped at him. "You can't be serious."

He held her gaze evenly, relishing the colour that swept across her cheeks and neck, and the manner in which that same colour escaped lower, below her blouse. "Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, after dinner, in the Room of Requirement. Does that work for you, Princess?"

"No," she retorted, holding the o-shape for a moment too long, folding her arms. "I have Head Girl duties on Mondays."

"I bet you do," he winked.

She gaped at him again. "Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, before breakfast, in the library, or we have no deal."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes, disliking the idea of the days being bunched up so close together, and especially disliking the idea that he would have to wake up at least an hour early on all three of those days — but he knew Rose wasn't lying about her schedule. Being a bossy, self-righteous, overzealous bint was a full-time job, and although he desired nothing more than to strip off those clothes and give her the release she would soon crave, he had to be patient about it and play by her rules.

For the time being.

"Deal," he agreed, catching the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she sighed, visibly relieved. "See you on Wednesday, Princess. I'll bring the condoms."

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><p><strong>AN: This is my first Rose/Scorpius haha. Tell me whatchu think. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


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